


A First and Her Second

by nuclearmuffins



Series: The Caster's Canticle [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Childhood, Children, Gen, Inquisitor Backstory, Loss of Parent(s), Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 11:44:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17724551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuclearmuffins/pseuds/nuclearmuffins
Summary: Deshanna speaks to her new apprentice as his mother's life hangs on the line.Set about 20+ years pre-Inquisition.





	A First and Her Second

Aline had been carried to the birthing tent twelve hours ago, and her son had not moved from his spot directly in front of it since.

Deshanna stood by the entrance of the tent and observed the little boy, sat silent and cross-legged on the ground, absentmindedly tracing patterns into the dirt. Aline’s son was an odd child, least of all for his stark appearance – Aline was dark-haired, with skin the colour of weak tea, while her son could have blended into a snowstorm, all halla-white locks and milk-pale skin. Once, over cups of elderflower tea, she’d asked if his appearance, so utterly different from hers, had come from his father, the man who had given his life so his wife and son could reach the Clan. Aline’s expression had made her regret even asking. The other woman had merely laid a hand over the huge swell of her belly, and whispered, “Yes.” Deshanna had not asked for a further word.

Since their arrival a mere month ago, neither mother nor son had spoken much, too caught in their net of grief to exchange more than a few brief words with the others. Nobody faulted them in the least. Many of them had lost a parent, child, sibling to the woods, to the beasts that roamed them, to rogue shemlen. But this had been the city elves’ first loss. The first cut was the deepest, so they said.

She turned to look back in the tent, where Aline now lay, surrounded by the other women of the Clan. In their center sat the only man among them, the Keeper. For the briefest of moments her father caught her eye, then quickly averted his gaze to the sweat-soaked woman in front of him. It was only for a second, but she caught his expression, the exact same as Aline’s silent agony when Deshanna had asked her about her husband. She’d lost count of how many times he’d looked at her like that over the past year.

As First, Deshanna herself should have been in the tent with them, but Keeper Istimaethoriel’s knack for healing spells did not seem to have passed down to his daughter. “I would hinder more than I would help,” she'd argued, so she’d stayed outside, performing clan duties in her father’s name while the Keeper himself tended to the woman in labour. She took stock of their food stores and medicine. She coordinated the day’s hunting. Twice, she’d put food down for Aline’s son while he kept his silent vigil. Twice, he’d ignored her.

Aline’s son, and Deshanna’s new apprentice. The family had fled all this way so their young son would not be torn away from them to be shut in the shemlen Circle, only to have a husband and father be taken instead, if by wolves and not human templars. By the time the Clan had found the heavily pregnant mother and son hiding in a cave, shivering and blood-splattered, there was nothing that could have been done for the family patriarch, save a prayer to Falon’Din. It was perhaps fortunate for them that Clan Lavellan had been lacking a Second, ever since Deshanna’s elder brother had passed and she had moved up in the chain of succession. But that luck seemed to have carried them only so far.

She walked as quietly as she could to him now, careful not to disturb the young boy. “Gabriel,” she said in the gentlest tone she could muster, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. He jumped, but looked back down at his dirt circles once he saw who it was. “I think it’s time you went to sleep.”

Gabriel traced a square into the ground. "No.”

She stopped herself mid-sigh, before bending down on one knee in front of him. “You’ve been sitting out here for half the day, da’len. You must be tired.”

He scrunched his nose. “What does that even mean? _Da’len._ Everybody’s been calling me that and I don’t even know what it means.”

"We’ll teach you what we know of the ancient tongue, child. You’ll be able to underst-"

“What if I don’t want to learn it?” he tilted his head up, matching her hazel eyes to his own, just as pale as the rest of him.

“Don’t you want to be like the rest of the clan, da’len?”

“Stop calling me that. I don’t want to be like you. I want to go home.”

Deshanna had seen an elven alienage only once, the miserable sty that shemlen corralled her people into by the thousands, and she had wondered what propaganda could make all of her people stay in some place so horrible. “This is your home now, Gabriel.”

The boy’s nostrils flared. “No, it’s not. _Kirkwall_ is my home. I want to go back to the alienage.”

Deshanna felt a force beneath her feet, nearly unsteadying her, before she placed a hand on the ground and rebalanced herself. A mind blast. A weak one, no doubt, but intentional or not, it proved that the boy had potential. “Gabriel, if you went back, the shemlen would put you in one of their Circles. They’d take you away from your parents.”

“If we hadn’t left the alienage, pa might still be alive.” Tears were beginning to build up in the boy’s eyes, as his face burned red in contradiction to the rest of his colourless self. “I hate you Dalish! I want to go back. I want-”

A pang of guilt arose in her before she’d even done it, but nevertheless, she pressed a hand to his shoulder, and before he reached up to swat it away, she had already called down the weakest wisp of entropy she could, just enough to induce sleep. Gabriel’s eyes grew heavy, and before he could collapse on the ground, she caught him and scooped him up in her arms.

She carried him back to his bedroll, tucking him into the blankets. On the ground beside him, she noticed a small bear doll made out of canvas and rough leather scraps. Aline had said her husband was a tanner, after all. She imagined an older man with mature versions of Gabriel’s features tenderly cutting pieces of cloth, sewing and stuffing into a toy for his son as she folded the doll into his son’s arms.

She would let him hate her when he’d had a full night of sleep. Now, she prayed to Mythal and Sylaise for his mother. From the horrible wails emerging from the birthing tent, she would need all the prayer she could get.

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse the awful title, this was originally nameless and I couldn't think of anything better.
> 
> Gabriel Lavellan is the future Inquisitor, and this is set about 26 years before the events of Inquisition, when he is about 9. I do hope to get some more out about him and my other OCs eventually, but life (or the scope of my imagination) might get in the way. Deshanna is about 29 years old at this point, and on the verge of becoming Keeper herself.
> 
> I admit I do break canon a little with his backstory, but while playing the game he ended up much more human and Chantry friendly than I initially anticipated... that, and I broke the cardinal rule of elven names. So his past life as an alienage elf is my way of trying to reconcile that with his background as a Dalish elf. Regardless, I do hope you did enjoy this little slice, since this is my first time posting to AO3 :)


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